Breakfast Times in Mysore

Chewing the crisply-fried poori* lathered with aptly flavoured chutney*

Savouring its familiar taste I am steered towards a not-so distant and a distinct past.

From facing a beaming bougainvillaea glistening warmly to the golden hues of a wintry Delhi morning

From beholding a cherubic squirrel, my day-guest, who basks each day on the balcony, counting the hours perhaps and punctuating my solitary silence, 

I am steered from this lonely locale to the familiar chants and clanks peopled by my plentiful past.

The well-worn winding path from the gate moving across the green, green canopy of the magnificent mango tree

Walks me towards the open, white verandah and an always open house.

As I inch closer to the tiled-roof hall inside the expansive house, 

Aroma of the morning camphor blends with soulful chants 

vying for attention over the apt-timed sizzles and whistles from the kitchen. 

My entry is marked by synchronised cheery, warm greetings almost in unison, both from the Pooja* room and from the kitchen.

Within minutes, my saree-clad grandmother fresh as the freshest of jasmines, 

Sporting her affectionate smile as radiant as her crimson-red bindi,* adorning her forehead, beaming largely at me and partly at the warm steel plate

Laden with perfectly turned out poories, accompanied by her signature dish, the pastel green delicious saagu,* appears, and the offering is now placed in my hands.

Entreating me as always to, "eat it while it is hot and not let it go cold”. 

Crispy, brown, perfectly round and delectable winking with the colourful saagu, peppered and spiced up, invokes the hunger of the hungriest.

As I deliberate on carrots and beans swimming in the saagu, alternating with pages from The Hindu,* my grandpa and I get ready to savour these hot poories with the hotter saagu.

Conversing about tennis and cricket, snippets about politics and the politicos is chimed in by my grandma, as she flits across between hall and the kitchen. 

A slightly smoky kitchen augments the ethereal ambience 

scented up by a heady mix of smells emanating from the newly churned up sandal paste and jasmine flowers with the gleaming lamps heralding another successful morning pooja. 

From talking about this and that, to merrily discussing the ripe jackfruits and tomatoes in the garden 

From the antics of our turtle in the well, to my grandmother’s latest "computer information"

Perfect accompaniments to perfect times!

The company of my simple and sensible grandparents 

forever ensures enriching, enlightening conversations of 

The world and its worries, life and living, education and educating.

Breakfast times, unhurried and unmatched, epitomises serenity and sense

Warming up my day, their memories now is my most memorable assurance. 

A G K

12 Dec, 2020

From: Chapter One: Four Decade Mornings in Moods Moorings and Memories

Mysore - City in South India

Poori - Popular Indian food, a deep- fried , puffed up pancake. 

Chutney - Sauce made of herbs and garnished with mustard and curry leaves

Pooja Room - Place where idols of gods are kept for worship

Saagu - Vegetable gravy made of coconut and ground spices. 

Bindi - Red dot adorining  the intersectional gap between the brows on the forehead.